


Prologue

by windwavesandwands



Series: The Orenda Chronicles [1]
Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 05:51:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10610595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windwavesandwands/pseuds/windwavesandwands
Summary: A modern fantasy story with a good mix of magic, history, and no small amount of sarcasm.





	

Lightning crackled overhead, warning of the impending rain. Its somber tone was matched by an eerie wind that sent a fitting chill up the man’s back. 

His footsteps and labored breathing were the only sounds that echoed down the dark streets. The usually busy streets were unnaturally empty, which should have been his first clue that something was terribly wrong. London was always busy.   
The man pushed past the abandoned telephone booth and ducked down a side street, never slowing his frantic pace. A left turn, then a right, he was uncertain where he was headed; he didn’t care. He would never be able to beat it- but maybe if he could gain some distance-confuse it for a while- then maybe…just maybe he might be able to buy himself some time. 

To warn the others that Jameson had been right-and that they were too late.

 

Unfortunately, the street suddenly came to a dead end. He cursed, eyes searching for another way out. But there was only the high walls around him. There was no time to double back and find another way out. He was trapped.  
He might be able to go through the walls-but that thought was cut off when he heard a growl-low and gargled- behind him. It was a horrifying sound that conjured up images of decaying earth and festering things. It was too late. It had found him.  
A small figure stood before him, appearing quite literally from the shadows. Behind it something moved in the shadows-no wait it was the shadows that were moving, writhing around in an animalistic, stalking sort of way. The figure-human in shape at least-held up a gloved hand and the shadows retreated slightly, but continued to pace restlessly.  
“I must say, this is a sad state to see you in.” The figure stepped just outside of the light of the half-hidden lamp the block over. His voice was smooth, and reminded the man of cool steel, steady and dangerous. The man smiled, brushing off the ends of his tail coat, far more at ease than the man was.  
The stranger continued, an ease in his voice that made it seem like he was carrying on a casual conversation rather than a death sentence. “Here I’ve been told of nothing but your strength and cunning, yet you’ve already found yourself trapped. It is truly a shame. I was hoping to have some more fun with you.”  
His head twisted to the side as he adjusted his cuff links, and the man could just barely make out his face. One eye was covered by an eye patch, but the other…something was unnatural about it. It watched his every move with a predatory gze that unsettled him. But more unsettling was the man’s grin. There was something innately creepy about how it stretched across his entire face. And it made him realize just how dangerous this man was.  
But even though he might be trapped, he was no coward. The ring on his finger gleamed faintly but steadily, and he took off his own gloves to reveal the runes that covered his arms.   
The stranger’s eye seemed to shine and his grin grew even more-a feat that the man didn’t think would be possible.  
“That’s it! That’s the fighting spirit I’ve been told of! It won’t save you, of course”-another growl from the shadows behind him-“but I like to give my…games a fighting chance.”  
There was a pop, and a small piece of paper floated down out of thin air in front of the stranger. He snatched it out of the air, a sudden flash of annoyance making his smile falter for a moment, and opened it up to read it in silence.   
“Confound it all, Old Man!” He stomped his foot, the smile turning into a childish tantrum. “You have to take all of the fun out of it!” He tore up the note, which burned into nothing before they hit the ground. Then the stranger sighed and straightened his hat, clearing his throat.  
“Sorry about that. It seems that we have no time for games tonight. It’s nothing personal, we just need to move to phase two tonight.” He waved a finger playfully at the man. “And we can’t do that with somebody knowing more than they should~”  
Then his demeanor changed and he snapped his fingers and the shadows behind him started to writhe.  
The man stiffened. He knew exactly what that thing would do, and he refused to go out like that.  
“Aut cum scuto aut in scuto.” Either with shield or on shield. It was a Roman phrase, but the man and his order had adopted it into their own lives quite well.  
The stranger snickered. “Poetic. Fitting words for a dead man. I’ll make sure to put ‘On Shield’ on your tombstone…even though there won’t be a body to bury.”  
“We shall see about that.” The man’s eyes narrowed and he pulled on the familiar feeling. The runes on his arms began shifting as the spell formed itself.  
“I haven’t the time for games, but you haven’t any time at all.” The stranger replied as the shadows surged forward.  
The man glanced down at the runes, mind knitting into confusion as they formed into something strange, something he’d never seen before. It wasn’t a spell, but they would have to do.   
“Quoque conde!”  
There was a flash of light that suddenly filled the dark alleyway in an instant.  
And when they settled, the alley was completely empty.

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a rough draft while I work out all of the kinks. Constructive criticism is welcome.


End file.
